Back in the Day
by Nocturnal Elle
Summary: Post season 5.


_Willow's dorm room._

"I'm worried about her... she's so hot to the touch... how long has she been like this... since Buffy... what can we do for her... shouldn't she be at the hospital..."

The voices were muffled. Or, at least they were to Willow. She had no concept of how close Tara, Giles, Xander and Anya really were. She didn't know they were all clustered around her as she twisted in her covers, sweating through another set of sheets. All Willow knew was that she was hot and everything was dark... until it was all very bright.

_Sunnydale High._

Willow sat up. She looked around. She was on the lawn in front of Sunnydale High. And her hair was too long. It was bright and sunny and she was sitting on a blanket. "This is wrong," she whispered.

"What's wrong?" a familiar voice asked and gently caressed her wrist.

Willow closed her eyes and just felt his hand on her arm. How she had ached for that once upon a time. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His hair was all sticking up and he was smiling lazily. He had on a t-shirt that said "Sidewinder."

"All of this is wrong. That - " she gestured to the school "is gone. Kablooey. And you - " she touched is face. "You, Oz, are somewhere. But somewhere isn't here, and so this, all of this, is wrong."

He nodded, so understanding, so Oz. "But you felt safe here," he said. "With me, in the sun, at school..."

Willow sat up straighter. "I did."

"So it was a good place to start, right?"

"What?" She was confused. She knew she wasn't awake. She was getting the idea that she had somehow fallen into her subconcious like she had walked into Buffy's. At least she was still in charge. Or so she thought.

_Sunnydale Hospital_

Tara sat beside Willow's hospital bed. The Scoobies hadn't known what to do for her. Of course, the doctors didn't know what to do, either. Nobody had really been able to say "Well, her best friend just died and before that, she worked some really powerful mojo on this deity so she could bring back her girlfriend's sanity... we think it has something to do with that." So the doctors were treating her for exhaustion. Tara laid a hand on Willow's forehead.

"Please," she whispered. "Please just open your eyes and come back to me."

_Tara's old dorm room._

"Okay, this is new," Willow said to herself. "I'm in my subconscious, in a dream I once had. Huh." She held a paintbrush in her hand, poised over Tara's bare back like she had in the dream with the First Slayer.

"I told you they would find out," the blonde said.

"Huh?"

"About you... the real you... who you are... she's coming out."

"Tara, I'm already 'out.' Everybody knows about us."

Her girlfriend sat up and pulled a blanket over her back. "That's not what I mean." Tara got up and walked over to the window. When she spoke, she didn't turn around. "You're listening, but you don't hear what I'm saying."

For some reason, this made Willow angry. "Then say it again."

The room changed. They were in Willow's room, fighting the way they had on the day Glory attacked Tara. Images of that kept mixing with this one. Fighting. Not getting there in time. Willow's insides began to churn. She kept telling herself that this wasn't really real, it wasn't really happening, but she couldn't make it stop.

Tara was crying. "There won't be a place for me."

Willow wrinkled her brow. "I'll _make_ a place for you. We can make this work."

Tara smiled and stretched her hand out to Willow. And as Willow reached for it, it got very far away and the room seemed very dark. "Tara?!" she yelled out as suddenly the girl didn't seem to be there. "Tara!?"

* * *

Xander placed a hand on Tara's shoulder. "Hey," he said quietly. She stirred. She'd fallen asleep by Willow's side. "You should go get some real sleep. I'll stay with her."

Tara rubbed her eyes and really looked at him. He hadn't shaved in at least two days. And it didn't look like he'd been getting any real sleep, either. He'd just lost one of his best friends, too. Now, his other best friend was unconscious. "Let's just both stay for a little while, okay?"

Xander attempted to smile. "Okay." He sat down on the other side of Willow's bed. He took one of Willow's hands. Then he took one of Tara's. "I've been here before," he said kind of gruffly. Tara regarded him, waiting for him to continue.

"Three years ago."

Tara nodded. Three years ago. Willow. Unconscious. Hospital bed. It didn't seem right that this was something you should have to do more than once.

Xander did a half laugh. "She was just learning magic. Couldn't even float a pencil yet."

Tara smiled. This felt good. Maybe this would help Willow wake up.

"I remember something else, too." Xander grinned a little sheepishly and ducked his head. "I told her I loved her and she had to come back to me."

Tara's eyes widened a little in interest and she quirked her eyebrow to urge him on.

"Then she opened her eyes..." Xander took a little breath and exhaled "and asked for Oz." He shrugged. "Eh. That path was never ours."

"That's not exactly what I heard," Tara replied with a gentle smile.

Xander might have blushed a bit. "I'm thinking now it wouldn't hurt to try again..." Tara tilted her head to the side, a silent question of what he meant. Xander continued. "Y'know, I tell her I love her and she flutters those lids and says 'Tara?' " He smiled at her and the circles under his eyes didn't seem so dark anymore. "Whaddya think?"

She returned the smile. "I think it sounds like a great idea."

Xander nodded. He held Tara's hand tighter and turned to his oldest friend. "Wills? We love you. And so you have to come back soon, okay?"

Willow's eyes fluttered, but remained closed.

* * *

_One of Sunnydale's cemeteries at night._

"Gee, how many times have I been _here_ before?" Willow asked herself. Buffy was fighting some monster in a clearing 20 feet away. And Willow and Xander were hiding behind headstones.

"It's not like this anymore, y'know." Xander spoke to Willow but watched Buffy fight.

"I know," Willow replied. They sat silently for a bit, watching their best friend be the Slayer. And Buffy fought, neither winning nor losing any ground.

Willow turned her head to face Xander. "Wait, it's not like what anymore?"

Xander turned to her. "This. We don't hide anymore. We fight, too."

"Oh."

And then they were in the magic shop, sitting at the round table. Books were strewn about. Willow wasn't sure what the scene change meant.

"Xander, what's happening? Why am I not waking up? What's making things change?"

He picked up a book and looked at the binding. "You're exploring." He put down the first book and picked up another. "Y'know, dealing with some things." He put down the second book and went back to the first.

"Am I? Dealing? Then where is Buffy, huh? I miss her. If there's stuff I should be dealing with, then it's Buffy stuff, but she isn't here, not really, and I don't understand..."

"Shhh..." Xander held his finger to his lips. "That's the big thing. These are the little things. That was the door; these are the rooms."

Willow regarded Xander for a moment. She took a heavy breath. "But she's _gone_, Xander. Buffy's gone from there," Willow pointed in no particular direction, aiming at reality. Then she made a fist and drew it to her chest. "But I know she's still here, with me."

Xander looked away from the books on the table and gave Willow his full attention. He nodded; he knew.

"So why isn't she here, then? In my mind? That's where we are, right? And why is it I'm not in control of where we're going? It's _my_ mind." Willow's voice rose in frustration. "When I was in Buffy's mind, she controlled where we went. But now it's me and I want to see my best friend again. I want to see Buffy."

"Suit yourself," Xander said and shrugged.

* * *

Tara and Xander had left shortly after sunset. The Scoobies still had patrol duties to tend to, despite the current condition of their comrade. They didn't like leaving Willow alone, but they did what they had to do.

Only, she wasn't alone for very long. The figure who came and took a seat in the corner of her room would have come sooner, but he knew his presence would not be a welcomed one by Willow's other visitors. A pesky little thing like sunlight had also presented a problem.

Despite all the no smoking signs, he lit a cigarette. _What in the hell am I doing here?_ he asked himself. All he knew was that he heard the witch was sick and he wanted to see her. He was so lost in thought, he didn't even look up when a nurse came in the room. She checked Willow's vitals, scribbled a note or two on her chart. Then she walked briskly over to the man seated in the corner and unceremoniously took the cigarette out of his fingers.

"No smoking." She went in the bathroom and flushed the cigarette. She came back out and walked over to Willow. She just watched the redhead for a moment. Then she spoke, maybe to the man in the corner, maybe to nobody. "She must be pretty special. Someone has been by her side the whole time she's been here, and I've been told the family doesn't even know because they're out of town." The nurse smoothed Willow's blanket. "And the doctors say it doesn't make any sense why she won't wake up, so I don't know what they can do for her."

The nurse turned and looked at the man. "The others sit by her bed and talk to her. If that were me," she nodded at Willow. "That's what I'd want my friends to do." And then she left.

He sat there for a full minute or more. Then, he stood up slowly and moved his chair to Willow's bedside. That's why he was here. A friend was in need.

"Hey, Red." He had no idea what to say. "It's Spike."

* * *

_Buffy's bedroom._

"Not this," Willow said to herself. "This isn't what I wanted."

Buffy had a bag on her bed and she was throwing clothes into it. Willow heard her voice in her head saying "You're running away again?" Buffy stopped and looked at her.

That day, at that moment, when Willow had found Buffy packing had been the only time she had ever really felt that Buffy had let her down. Willow had needed her that summer and Buffy hadn't been there. And then she'd come back, only to start to leave again. Now Willow's stomach was turning into knots. This time, Buffy had really left her, and she wasn't coming back. "Please don't do that," Willow whispered.

Buffy kept packing.

"I said don't do that! Stop; don't leave," Willow stepped toward Buffy as she spoke.

Buffy calmly placed whatever she held in her hand into her bag. Then she looked at Willow. "I've already left. You know that."

Willow started to cry. "But I don't want you to go. I need you."

Buffy spoke softly. "I left some things for you. They'll be what you need."

"What do you mean? What did you leave for me?"

Buffy reached out and took Willow's hands. "This," Buffy said. The girls began to float. "This'll help you through."

Willow blinked away some of her tears and tried to comprehend what her friend meant. "Buffy, I don't understand."

Buffy only smiled. "Then this next part is _really_ going to confuse you."

* * *

The vampire didn't know how much time he had. He figured some of the others would be by after patrol, and he didn't want to be there when they arrived.

"You know that thing you did? The night -" he didn't finish his sentence. He let it trail off and he looked at his hands. "You spoke to me in my head. That was a bit of a trick. Wouldn't mind knowing how that worked, if you want to wake up and tell me..."

Who was he kidding? He was no good at this. They all hated him. _I shouldn't even be here_, he argued with himself. But when Spike looked at Willow's prone form, and she looked so small in her hospital bed, he just couldn't get up and leave. "I am a great big poof," he muttered to himself.

Nonetheless, he scooted his chair closer to the head of her bed. He had a couple more things to say to the witch. He leaned over the edge of her bed and rested his arm on her pillow. After a moment, he laid his head on his arm so that his head was right next to hers. When he spoke, he could whisper right in her ear.

"You've always been nice to me, Red" he said gently. He took his free hand and traced the side of her face. "You're such a good person, you can't even be mean to a demon." Every once in awhile, he saw her eyes move beneath their lids.

"You're all full of light and joy. It just makes me sick." He paused. "Sick that I don't hate you. That I don't want to rip your throat out or tear your..." His voice rose a bit as he got carried away. "Eh, what I mean to say is, that I don't want to hurt you." His thumb was making little circles on her cheek.

"I know it makes me a pathetic vampire, but I consider you a friend. I don't have many of those. And you're a good friend to have." He closed his eyes and listened to her heart beat. "When Buffy died, I lost the woman I loved," he whispered. He opened his eyes again. "I can't lose you, too, Willow. I need a friend in this world."

* * *

_Willow's freshman dorm room._

Willow screamed as Spike threw her down on her bed. He climbed on top of her and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head to the side and baring her neck. "Stopit!Stopit!Stopit!" she kept yelling. This had been one of the most truly terrifying moments of her life. To her surpise, he did stop. He didn't get off of her, though. Instead, the scene took a definite deviation from the way Willow remembered it happening.

Spike began purring into her neck. Willow's eyes bugged. He inhaled deeply and moaned a little. "I love the way you smell," he said in a low voice.

Willow's brain started sending mixed signals. What was going on here? "Uh, Spike?" she managed to ask. She worked her palms up to his chest and pushed him back from her. He growled a little, but raised up. He wasn't in game face anymore, but his eyes were glowing yellow.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered out.

He didn't answer her at first. Instead, he bored into her with his gaze and smiled at her seductively. "I guess you could say," he took one of his hands and ran it down her side until he had his thumb on her knee and his fingers in the bend of her leg, "I'm seeing if we fit." In one fluid movement, he pulled her knee up and to the side and settled in between her legs, pressing her into her mattress.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" She scrambled out from under him as fast as she could, falling completely off the bed in the process. Willow jumped up from the floor and began a flustered tirade.

"What were you - you were - with me - and this is my - did I - _what is going on here???_" Before she could say any more, the scene shifted again.

It was dusk. She was by Buffy's grave. This had been two days ago. Dark shadows seemed to be stretching out from the trees. She was sitting there on the ground, cross-legged. She had been crying silently and she closed her eyes. When she had opened them, she wasn't sitting by herself anymore. Spike was there. They hadn't said anything for a long time. She'd kept her eyes on Buffy's grave and extended a hand to him. He'd taken it.

And here they were again. "Spike?" she asked.

"Yes, love?" he answered.

"What just happened?"

He kept staring at Buffy's headstone. "A bright light went out of the world, and a lot of other lights went dim."

"No, I meant just now, in my..." Willow realized he couldn't answer her. He wasn't really there. They were in her mind, in a memory. She could only ask herself. Was she attracted to Spike? That didn't seem right; she was in love with Tara. He was in love with Buffy. Willow thought for what seemed like a long time. Then she noticed Spike was watching her.

"Spike, I really, really don't know what's happening here."

"Nothing's happening here, Willow. Not yet." He still had her hand in his. He held it up, like he was going to kiss her knuckles. Then he turned it over and kissed her palm instead.

She didn't know why, but suddenly Willow felt very warm inside. She swallowed. "Not yet," she agreed.

* * *

"That's all I have to say," Spike finished. He lifted his head off his arm. "And since you're still asleep, and that blonde chit of yours, or the Watcher or someone will no doubt be by any minute..." He raised up and on impulse decided to plant a little kiss on her forehead "...I'll just be on my way..."

"Not yet," Willow murmured. Spike froze.

A nurse rolled a noisy cart down the hall, and Willow opened her eyes. Spike pulled away from her and sat back down slowly. "You're awake," he commented.

It took Willow a moment to gain her bearings. When her eyes were focused and she had assessed her situation, she looked at Spike oddly. "You're here," was all she said.

"Yes I am." He was a master at betraying no emotion in voice or expression.

"And I'm awake."

"That you are."

She nodded. "How long was I out?"

Spike did a little counting on his fingers. "I'd say about 36 hours."

"What time is it?"

"Near midnight."

"So they talked you into staying while they patrolled? That seems..."

"Nobody knows I'm here."

Willow blinked. "...oh... so you just..."

"Came by to see you."

Several emotions danced across her face before she was able to say in a thick voice "Thank you."

He gave her a subtle nod and stood. "I should go. You look like you'll be alright now."

"Yes, I think I will be."

He smiled at her, and then he left. And for the first time in about 36 hours, Willow felt that she understood what was happening. She was waking up.


End file.
